


The Search Party

by Merrinpippy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood and Gore, Dubious Consent, Gen, Horror, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, Possessive Voldemort, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 10:52:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10569813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merrinpippy/pseuds/Merrinpippy
Summary: It was a black and misty Forbidden Forest that they entered with one goal in mind: to find Harry, before it was too late.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta crackmonkeytrash who is amazing and helped loads with this fic!

It was a black and misty Forbidden Forest that they entered in search for Harry. 

Voldemort’s corporeal patronus- they hadn’t even believed he could  _ cast  _ one before now- had burst into the Great Hall only a short time ago, and they didn’t have to hear his message to understand that something was wrong, for the patronus itself… was a stag. 

_ “You have lost.” _ Voldemort’s disembodied voice had echoed, chilling everyone to the very bone with his silky triumph.  _ “Your chosen one will not save you now. I have made him mine in the place where we first met as equals… when I was but a ghost of myself. If you dare to seek us out, you shall find that your Boy Who Lived is not much better now than I was then…” _

Hermione and Ron, of course, headed to the forest at once. The rest followed suit. So here they were, teacher and student side by side with one goal in mind: to find him, before it was too late. 

Dumbledore led them, of course. He trailed behind him Remus, Dora, Hagrid, Alastor, Ron, Hermione, Molly, Severus, and Professor McGonagall. Even with so many people it could be hours before they found any hint of him or Voldemort. Remus almost commented that if Sirius were here he could have located him as Padfoot, but the words got caught in his throat, and he said nothing. 

Dumbledore had armed himself with not only his wand but the sword of Gryffindor, though Remus could not see how a sword could help them against Voldemort even without a hostage to threaten them with. But Remus trusted Dumbledore, so he did not bring it up, and though Ron and Hermione eyed it suspiciously, nobody else did either. 

It was a few minutes into the search that Dumbledore suggested they split up, and Remus found himself alone with his two former colleagues. 

“He’ll be alright,” Minerva said, but her firm voice had an undertone of fear that did more to elevate Remus’ apprehension than disperse it. 

Severus, wisely, said nothing to this, though a contemptful expression appeared on his face and did not leave. 

They searched from this point in silence, their footfalls and deep forest noises sounding too loud in their ears already. Thick, dark branches leaned down to bar their path many times, and slivers of wind became sinister whispers taunting them because they could not find him.

They  _ would  _ find him. Remus was certain of it. 

The silence was broken when they had been searching for at least half an hour, by Severus. “Look there. Is that muggle fabric?” 

Severus’  _ Lumos  _ lit up the side of a lake, where indeed a blue strip of fabric was strewn over the pebbles and dirt. Rather than  _ Accio  _ it and ruin the clue, the three of them hedged closer, scanning for any other signs of Harry.

“It might not even be from Harry’s clothing,” Remus said quietly, though he knew in his heart that it was. The fabric itself, Remus saw now that they were closer, was from Harry’s most-worn muggle t-shirt. That it was ripped and discarded so carelessly did not bode well.

“It appears to be a hem, perhaps from a sleeve… Potter has lost his arm,” Severus spoke softly.

Minerva glared at him. “We understand that you dislike the boy, Severus, but now is  _ not  _ the time-” 

But Remus had seen it now too. “No,” he whispered, as if that would take the image away, but the lifeless limb lying- floating- in the water did not disappear. It was clothed in the same blue material as was on the ground, and Remus could no longer try to deny that it belonged to Harry. 

It was his  _ arm.  _

Remus felt sick, and Minerva, seeing it too, narrowed her eyes in a protective rage for her student. Wordlessly, she levitated the arm from the water and brought it closer to them for inspection, though Remus wanted to fling it away and never see it again. Maybe then, if-  _ when  _ they found Harry, it would be as though he had never lost it in the first place. 

The arm itself was bloodstained, for good reason; it almost seemed sawed off at the shoulder, jagged edges of flesh and splintered bone protruding from the dripping stump. Remus hated that he recognised the hand hanging from the air. He hated that the hand was smaller than his own, smaller than even James’ had gotten to be. 

He hoped that Madam Pomfrey would be able to grow a new arm back... but the bigger priority was finding Harry himself. 

“You don’t think he’s in the lake, do you?” Minerva asked. The moonlight glistened eerily on the top of the lake, as if to say,  _ come and find out _ . Remus felt an out-of-place gratefulness that the moon was not full tonight. 

But Severus shook his head. “If he was in the lake, it would be bloodied. Look at the wound… it’s no papercut. Potter’s chances of surviving the night grow weaker and weaker as the minutes tick by.” 

“So where do we go from-” Remus was cut off by a much more pleasant light in the trees behind them. A jolt of fear went through him- what if it was the stag?- but the patronus belonged to neither Harry nor Voldemort. It was an otter instead. 

Remus didn’t recognise the animal, but he did recognise the shaking voice whose message it carried.  _ “Find us!”  _

The three barely exchanged glances before tearing after the patronus, for unlike Voldemort’s, it did not disappear. However, Remus could not contain his flinch as the dead limb hit the water with a condemning splash behind them. 

It turned out that Hermione, Ron, and Molly were not far away at all. All startled horribly when a twig snapped under Remus’ shoe, but he didn’t get to apologise, for Minerva shushed him at once.

Molly and Hermione were crying, and Ron looked seconds away from doing the same. 

“What is it, Molly?” Remus asked gently, already reaching in his pocket for the chocolate he kept on him at all times. 

“There’s- I- his-” Molly could not get out more than a few words before failing to stifle her sobs. Remus had a horrible feeling he knew why. There was a noise here that was not by the lake, an insistent, morbid dripping that was audible even over the faraway murmurs of the forest creatures, and Remus located it easily by following Ron and Hermione’s horrified gazes. 

A leg. Undoubtedly Harry’s. Speared on a branch, purposely, almost carefully- though that couldn’t be right, as just like the arm, the top of the leg was jaggedly torn as if ripped apart. 

“Come away,” Minerva ordered sternly, but her voice was hushed. Rightly, too. Voldemort implied that he was  _ with  _ Harry, and if that meant he was with a body part… No. Remus shook his head to remove such thoughts from his head. Harry  _ was  _ alive. And if Madam Pomfrey had to regrow every one of Harry’s limbs to return him to health, by Merlin she would do it. 

“You don’t look very surprised,” Ron noted in a choked voice, staring at Remus and Severus in turn as if begging them to contradict him. 

“We aren’t,” Severus replied shortly, in the nicest (but still not particularly pleasant) way Remus had ever seen him address the boy. 

When Molly looked as if she didn’t want to leave the spot, Minerva encircled Molly with her arms and pulled her away. “We should find the others- find Dumbledore,” Minerva said in the most teacherly fashion she could muster, and Molly nodded in short, sharp jerks. 

Remus couldn’t help the thought that Harry had left an arm and a leg, and two other groups of the search party to find them. His face twisted into a bitter, sad frown, and he made no effort to hide it as he placed his hands on Ron and Hermione’s backs to guide them in following Minerva.

Dumbledore and Alastor’s groups were not as easy to find as Molly’s, and so it felt like hours that their own group wandered, tense and afraid, before anything happened. 

Of course  _ after  _ it happened they all wished that they could go back to wandering aimlessly. 

It was the distant pitter patter that they heard first, and then as they approached, bear-like sobs that could only belong to Hagrid. Severus murmured something about subtlety, and Minerva sniffed in agreement, but otherwise they all unanimously ran towards the awful sound. 

Ron’s panicked whisper of “I don’t like spiders!” was the only warning Remus got before he was suddenly standing below an Aromantacula of immense size- even as a wolf Remus had never encountered one so large. But it was not this that made Remus freeze, struck to the very core of his being at the sight.

No, it was what was at the spider’s foot, next to the wildly sobbing Hagrid, that brought a scream from Minerva’s lips and even caused Severus to close his eyes and look away. 

It was not another of Harry’s arms or legs. Merlin, Remus wished it would have been that. Because on the ground, clothed in the familiar blue shirt, was Harry’s chest.

And only his chest. 

Remus wanted to be sick. As it was, Dora ran over to him- oh, he hadn’t noticed the others in a huddle away from Hagrid and the spider who seemed to be attempting to comfort him- and captured him in a bone-crushing hug which he returned wholeheartedly. They cried into each other’s shoulders for what seemed like an age. 

Harry. Dead. Ripped, apparently, limb from limb and even decapitated. Had he been alive to bear the pain of it? Remus hoped Harry had suffered a quick death like his father, but somehow… somehow, he doubted it. 

Why did he have to lose everyone? James, Lily, Peter, Sirius… now even Harry, one of very few bright lights left in Remus’ life, was  _ dead.  _

Merlin, if only they’d found him sooner… perhaps… perhaps…

“We must keep searching,” the regretful voice of Dumbledore had Remus’ head snapping up to stare at him incredulously. 

“You wish to traumatise the children further?” Severus asked, with more malice in his voice than was appropriate. No one would blame him, though. They all agreed. 

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. “I do not think that Voldemort will let us leave this forest without finding what he wishes us to,” he responded. “We must continue.”

“You can continue, Headmaster,” Minerva began, shaking. “Some of us do not wish to see what remains-” 

_ “A shame…”  _ A horrible silky voice hissed, penetrating the air around them and causing a sort of claustrophobic fear to crawl up Remus’ spine.  _ “... that you wish to leave without a final goodbye… I’m sure Harry is very disappointed in you… aren’t you Harry?”  _

The hairs on Remus’ arms prickled, and his head raised at a new, worse fear. 

_ “N-nooo…”  _

It was unmistakably Harry.  _ Unmistakably.  _

But that could not be possible. Harry didn’t even have his  _ heart _ , for Merlin’s sake. His lungs, his- everything he needed to live, he didn’t have, so how- 

Unless Harry wasn’t actually alive. Remus had heard of Voldemort using such dark magic in the first wizarding war. The very idea that Harry could have become  _ that _ sent horrible chills through him, but he saw the same realisation in the eyes of the other adults.

Not for the first time, Remus felt physically ill.

But Voldemort was laughing.  

_ “No, he’s not an inferi… that would require him to be dead, and that’s quite the opposite of what I desire… no… come see it for yourself. You will not leave the forest any other way.”  _

The source of the voice became apparent immediately. The stag was waiting for them at the edge of the clearing they had reached in an almost mischievous manner, but had remained hidden from view until Voldemort had finished speaking. 

Dumbledore was the first to follow it, but Ron, surprisingly, was the second. Well, surprisingly until Remus remembered the Aromantacula still towering over them. Only Voldemort could make them forget that they were in the presence of such a large beast… and only Hagrid could be actively seeking comfort from it. 

“This is the same human who framed you for the attacks all those years ago,” spoke the spider, and everyone but Hagrid and Dumbledore flinched. “Do not trust him. It is unwise to follow him deeper… who knows what horrors you may encounter.” 

But Hagrid sniffed. “If there’s even a tiny chance that I’ll get ter see Harry again, I’m gonna take it,” he said, and followed Dumbledore. 

“How unfortunate… Hagrid. Friends of Hagrid.” The Aromantacula crept lazily away, and Remus mourned the loss of a powerful being on their side, or as on their side as a giant spider could possibly be. Seeing no choice but to follow the strangely ominous light from the patronus, their group trudged on. 

And on.

And on.

How large was the forbidden forest again? Remus had never been quite this lost in it before, but they had no choice but to follow the stag now, for who knew what they could face if they broke away from the group now? They walked in silence, Harry’s uncertain fate hanging over their heads amongst the branches and the leaves and the questionable creatures that surely lurked above them.

The only indicator that they were nearing their destination was the black aura of death that Voldemort emitted engulfing them, stronger now than it had been the last time Remus had come face-to-face with him but still undeniably his. Dora clutched at Remus’ hand and Remus could only squeeze it in response, all of his focus on the stag, which began to slow in its trot. 

The thick trees around them obscured the future from view, but as the stag melted away into the mist Remus was almost glad for it. He was certainly glad that Dumbledore was leading them, for if anyone could keep them safe and save Harry, it was the headmaster. But no matter how much reassurance Remus took from Dumbledore, it did not stop Remus’ dread from increasing tenfold with every step closer he got to the spot where the stag had vanished. 

Hermione and Ron were clutching each other, Remus noticed idly. Hermione’s other hand was clenched into a fist. Merlin, how Remus wished he could be young again, with James and Sirius… and even Peter, before he turned against them. They would want him to be strong. For James’ son. For Harry.

It was with a steely resolve that Remus entered the clearing behind Dumbledore, Ron, and Hermione. 

And then Remus laid eyes upon Harry Potter. Or more specifically, Harry Potter’s severed head. 

His glasses were skewed on his face, a picture of weary defiance if Remus had ever seen one, and he knew that against all odds Harry was alive. A waning trickle of blood dripped from Harry’s neck, or rather lack of one, and pooled on the ground a few feet below where he was being held up by a white fist knotted in his hair. Voldemort’s fist. 

The ripple of shock through the group was palpable in the air, as was Voldemort’s widening grin. 

“Look,” Voldemort hissed, gesturing to the group with his unoccupied arm. “Am I not a generous Lord?” 

Dumbledore took a breath but did not speak, and it only occurred to Remus when Harry replied that Voldemort had not been addressing their group or Dumbledore, but Harry himself. 

“Then be generous and let them go,” Harry said, though it shouldn’t have been possible, for he didn’t have a voice box- nor any other part of the body that was required for a boy to live. Remus found himself itching to ask how.

Voldemort did not respond to Harry’s suggestion, choosing instead to analyse each of their group in turn with those monstrous red eyes. Remus found he could not keep eye contact when it was his turn, but could only look at Harry, who wore an almost apologetic expression on his pale face.

“Tom,” Dumbledore addressed finally, and the smile slipped from Voldemort’s face to be replaced with a bored sneer.

“That is no longer my name,” he said with a soft quality that promised danger. “If you insist on living in the past, old man, why should anyone trust you with the present?”

The dripping from Harry’s neck was maddening.

“How is he still alive?” Remus blurted before Dumbledore could respond. He regretted it immediately for Voldemort turned his attention on him instead, the malicious grin having returned to Voldemort’s features. Out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw Dora’s hair lighten by a few shades. 

“How indeed…” Voldemort let go of Harry’s head but it stayed grotesquely suspended in midair, allowing Voldemort to- to  _ caress  _ Harry’s face. Remus bristled with barely contained anger at the sight, but he knew that any offensive action now could backfire on all of them, particularly Harry, so he restrained himself. But Voldemort did not answer him, and only the rustling of the trees and the distant hooting of an owl responded to him.

“Why have you called us here tonight, Tom?” Dumbledore spoke again with a harder tone, breaking the tense silence a moment too soon for Remus to be at ease. Shifting his gaze to the headmaster for a split second, Remus saw Dumbledore tighten his grip on the sword he carried. 

Voldemort saw it too, for he withdrew his wand from his robes with an alien grace and tilted it lazily to the side. Remus felt his own wand slip into his palm, but like everyone else in the group, knew better than to try anything without Dumbledore’s cue. In any other situation, Voldemort would not have hesitated to kill them all, Harry included. 

What had changed?

“Do you truly think you can fight me with that?” Voldemort said, though it did not look like he cared much. “Your prowess with your wand is much more  _ legendary... _ ” 

“It disposed of your teenage self easily enough four years ago,” Dumbledore responded. “I’m sure it can do the same to you now.” 

However, this did not have the quelling effect that Dumbledore desired. Instead, a twisted smirk wormed its way onto Voldemort’s face, and he returned his attention to Harry.

“Interesting you mention that…” Voldemort said, petting Harry’s face as if sharing an inside joke with him. “... It is particularly relevant, wouldn’t you agree, Harry? If you cannot nod, a simple ‘yes my Lord’ will suffice.”

“It… is relevant,” Harry bit out, though it looked like it pained him to do so. Remus longed to sooth him, but he was for all intents and purposes powerless. He  _ hated  _ it. And Dumbledore was speaking again. 

“You’ve hurt Harry enough,” Dumbledore said, his tone strangely pleasant. “Come back to the castle. We can discuss it over tea in my office. Goodness knows it’s past the children’s bedtimes.” 

_ “We?”  _ Voldemort repeated, pausing for dramatic effect. “You make it sound as though this is between you and me. It is not.” At the confused expressions of everyone around him, Voldemort continued. “I told you that you could say farewell. You think I’m doing this for your benefit? Mine, perhaps? No… I’m doing it for Harry’s.” 

“Generous,” croaked out Harry, perhaps sarcastically, and Voldemort nodded. 

“You see, as lovely as his body was, it was tainted by the light…” Voldemort shot a meaningful look at Dumbledore. “But now he cannot escape me. Perhaps if he proves himself I’ll shape him a new one…” 

It grew more foreboding by the second, Remus thought. He had half a mind to grab Harry’s head and make a run for it.

“You want to defeat me with that,” Voldemort continued, gesturing to the sword with his wand. “Fine. I’ll even show you where to stab. Right…” Voldemort slid behind Harry, placing his hands in Harry’s hair in a way that reminded Remus bizarrely of a fortune teller and a crystal ball. Voldemort tapped Harry’s scar twice with the long nail of his index finger. “Here.” 

Harry’s face remained impassive. The silence following Voldemort’s words was only broken by the creaking of the forest boughs and the drip, drip, dripping of Harry’s blood on the ground.

But inevitably, one of them cracked. “You’re mad!” Hermione accused with a trembling voice, and when Remus turned to look at her, her expression was steely. In the Shrieking Shack with Sirius, her boldness had served her well. Remus feared that it would not be the same now. 

Voldemort carded through Harry’s messy hair in an almost soothing way, and Harry’s eyes closed in either pleasure, pain, or disgust. It worried Remus that he could not tell which one. 

“No, miss Granger… I would not treat matters of such import with levity. Dumbledore already knows this, but naturally he has not disclosed it to any of you, for he does not value you: there is a piece of my soul in your friend. In his scar, in fact... in order to truly kill me, you will need to drive  _ that sword-”  _ Voldemort gestured once again to the sword of Gryffindor- “into Harry Potter’s skull. Are you willing to do that?” 

Voldemort looked at each of them in turn, a condemning look in his eyes that he should not have been able to pull off so flawlessly. Ceasing the movements in Harry’s hair, Voldemort cradled Harry’s head possessively to his chest, his long fingers a striking pale against Harry’s darker, reddening face. His eyes narrowed.

“Will you let him?” 

Dumbledore’s response was almost immediate. He brandished the sword higher, almost in challenge. “The boy has suffered enough.” 

“Absolutely not,” rebuked Minerva, speaking for the first time. “He is a  _ boy-”  _

“And that is a Dark Wizard we’re up against,” interrupted Alastor. “Sacrifices are made in every war-” 

_ “No-”  _

“He’s our friend!” 

It continued, and though Remus didn’t say anything beyond his first “I won’t let you touch him,” he shifted away from the group so that he could better block Harry from them with his body. The only other person not saying anything was Severus, who watched the whole proceeding with thinly veiled disgust, though for which side it was not apparent. 

It took another minute of in-fighting before Remus realised that Voldemort was laughing. 

“How easy it is to divide loyalty amongst the weak… are you satisfied, Harry? You have seen who is loyal to you. Is this not the ultimate gift? Besides immortality, which you already have.”

“That’s enough,” Harry said firmly, not rising to the bait, and Voldemort inclined his head in agreement. Smoothly, he moved so he was in front of Harry’s suspended head instead of behind.  

“Indeed. The only loyalty you need is mine, and I assure you I will do my utmost to care for you, as if you were… my own.” Voldemort’s mouth twisted in dark amusement at his own joke. “You know, Dumbledore once said that I am incapable of love, but I disagree.” 

He bent down so that his face was level with Harry’s, and though everyone else including Remus watched on in horror, Voldemort seemed to have disregarded their existence entirely. 

“I am perfectly capable of loving myself,” was the only warning they got before Voldemort captured Harry’s lips in his own. Remus’ blood boiled with helpless rage- this  _ monster  _ was touching  _ Harry-  _ and even worse was that Harry did not even appear to object! What exactly had Voldemort done to Harry that would make him even  _ remotely  _ comfortable with this?

As if echoing Remus’ thoughts, Harry broke the kiss, mumbling, “You have a funny way of showing it.” 

Voldemort brushed a finger over Harry’s lips before turning to face the group once again, his red eyes gleaming. “I’ll make it up to you,” he said, even as he waved his wand in a large arc over them all. 

None could react in time. A dark, polluted force threw Remus backwards into a tree- the same had happened to the rest- and his world began to blur white around the edges, only sharpened by the rough bark at his back. It wasn’t enough. 

“Say goodbye, Harry. You won’t be seeing them again.” 

Remus fought, he did, but there was a force tearing something from him, and with every passing second he felt the loss of something important, siphoned from his mind beyond his reach.

“Goodbye…” 

Remus felt for Dora’s hand next to him, and she squeezed his in response. He tried to resist but his efforts were fruitless, and then there was nothing  _ to  _ resist. It was suddenly like a weight had lifted from him, and when he opened his eyes he could not remember why he had closed them. He looked at Dora, and though she smiled, it was tinged with confusion. He knew the feeling. 

He hadn’t been inside the Great Hall since the year he’d taught at the school, but he could not for the life of him remember how he’d gotten here. He suspected Dumbledore had something to do with it, though, as the words that floated around the hall this evening had two recurrences. 

‘Harry Potter’ and ‘missing’. 

Later in the evening, when questioned by Dumbledore and the rest of the Order, Ron and Hermione could not pinpoint where Harry might be, and the horizon looked ever bleaker with the days and then weeks and then months that there was no sign of Harry.

The fight against Voldemort continued, but without the ‘Chosen One’, what hope was there? 

For all that the Order had thought Harry was too young to join in, Harry was the only one who ever stood a chance against Voldemort. He’d proved it time and time again, but it was only now that the consequences of his absence were realised that the simple truth was realised too. 

Without him, they could not defeat Voldemort.

And so Voldemort went undefeated. 

They never did find Harry.

**Author's Note:**

> (: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed, please feel free to leave a comment!


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